


First Blood

by cobwebsaint



Category: Motionless in White (Band), Tim Sköld (Musician)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, M/M, Mirror Sex, Public Sex, Spit As Lube, they're in the goth club and ricky's a nervous little rat, thim lennart skold is a demon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:56:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22975780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobwebsaint/pseuds/cobwebsaint
Summary: Tim hummed, “Maybe a bit, but I think I’m just good at sniffing out fresh meat.”Ricky would have audibly gulped if everything around him weren’t so loud. Normally he prided himself on not drawing attention, but that had gone completely out the window. Fresh meat. How was supposed to hear that and not die a little inside? And why was a dude definitely old enough to be his father y’know. Talking to him. Making him fidget and bounce his leg like he had mainlined an entire pot of coffee an hour ago. And how exactly was he supposed to form sentences with Tim staring at him like he was. Like fresh meat.
Relationships: Ricky "Horror" Olson/Tim Sköld
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	First Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feistycadavers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feistycadavers/gifts).



> First of the year, lads! Only took me two and a half months to finish but whatever. We chillin. 
> 
> Idk what to tell you dude. This whole fic was a mess from conception but I am happy with the end result. Partial blame to Marina for this. Mostly for introducing the Tim gremlin into my repertoire cuz he is WILD. The mans is uncontrollable. He will not be stopped. 
> 
> Anyway for visuals, take little 2009 Ricky and choose your favorite Tim. Enjoy the ride, my dudes. 
> 
> Comment moderation is on for reasons so y'know. Play nice.

Barely two minutes after getting past the bouncer and Ricky already knew how fucked he was. 

He wasn’t used to this. Y’know. Socializing. Being out. Especially at bars. And  _ extra  _ especially at the industrial club that had a dress code and tight security where girls in latex toting around a cat o’ nine tails were politely trying to move past him, into the depths of the crowd and fog. 

This place was  _ jam packed  _ with all the weirdos from miles and miles around. A sea of people dressed in black, anything from Type O Negative to White Zombie cutting through the ambient chatter. The DJ and the bar were lit up in blacklight, cast illuminating a balcony that Ricky figured he probably couldn’t get up to without either credentials or a fat stack in his wallet. Really, it probably would have been cool as shit, given he wasn’t able to hear his own heartbeat racing above the bass of whatever track was playing over the speakers. He probably shouldn’t be here. No, he  _ definitely  _ shouldn’t be here. But there he was, getting pushed around, looking like a lost puppy, in the middle of the famed goth club that Chris had told him about a billion times, and he’d gotten in with a shitty fake ID. 

Whatever. At least he blended in with the rest of the shitty twenty-somethings in tight jeans and shirts and bondage belts. ‘Cause there were a whole lot of those. Or so he  _ thought _ he disappeared in with the rest of the crowd. Little did he know what demonic forces were lurking just beyond the rim of a glass of top shelf whisky. 

After getting smacked into by a very clearly wasted dude with lipstick smeared all over his face, Ricky has settled in on shuffling over to the bar to order a drink, stuttering for a minute on what he wanted before finally just saying _ “Surprise me.” _

He leaned up against the counter, the edge digging into his forearms, while he unlocked his phone to stare down at the last message he’d gotten from Chris a good twenty minutes ago. Y’know, twenty minutes ago when he was already in line and Chris shot him a quick  _ ‘Leaving soon!’ _ and made him a good six thousand times more anxious than he was before. It was a miracle he’d pulled this off to begin with, the last thing he needed was to start raising suspicion by looking so goddamn out of place. This motherfucker needed to show up soon or else…  _ Or else.  _

Ricky sent him a text back. 

_ ‘Inside. Any time now would be nice, dickwad.’ _

Short, sweet, friendly, and to the point. Hopefully Chris would take the goddamn hint. 

A fruity cocktail was placed in his hand and he was asked if he’d like to start a tab, which he respectfully declined. Miraculously, he found a stool to slide into somewhere closer to the back, and for that he was grateful. Standing around in these stupid boots was not happening until he had Chris to bitch to ‘cause his feet hurt. All he wanted to do was lay low for a while until he could hide behind somebody older and taller and knew how to navigate social settings better than he did. 

Naturally, he was not allowed such peace. 

Two minutes tops, and Ricky felt a hand on his shoulder. His blood pressure must have spiked through the fucking roof of this joint. That or his heart just stopped beating altogether. Oh no. Fuck. He’d been here less than ten minutes and he hadn’t even technically done anything illegal yet. Ricky said a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that he wouldn’t make a complete ass of himself and get dragged out of here by some giant scary bouncer. He couldn’t emotionally or physically handle that level of embarrassment right now.

He held his breath as he swiveled around in his seat and was met with a pair of icy blues. A tall, thin, pale man, probably a couple inches taller than Ricky with cheekbones that could cut glass. His eyes were rimmed with black, and lipstick was purposefully smudged down his chin. Well. This dude didn’t  _ look _ like a bouncer. He couldn’t have been. But Ricky still couldn’t help but be skeptical. This all smelled of trouble to him. 

A small smirk pulled at the corners of the man’s lips and he slid his hand down Ricky’s back, resting it on the back of his stool. He leaned in closer, speaking over the music so Ricky would hear him. “You have a name, sweetheart?”

Oh.  _ Oh no.  _ This couldn’t possibly be right. 

“Uhh, Rick. Ricky. Either is fine, I guess,” Ricky could already feel a flush creeping up his neck. He sounded like an idiot and there wasn’t nearly enough space between him and this dude. Now he was really starting to regret not telling Chris no and just staying home, taking a hot bath, reading a good book. He didn’t sign up for this. Did some random hot guy really have to send him into cardiac arrest too?

Surprise, maybe even a slight bit of confusion flickered across the stranger’s face, like something didn’t quite add up to him for a second.

“Oh my god,” he said with a laugh, “I’m sorry, I thought you were a woman. Looked like it from afar. Luckily, I don’t discriminate.” 

Ricky averted his eyes, staring down into his drink like he was studying a map instead of a couple berries and a pineapple chunk stabbed onto a cocktail stick. He felt his cheeks heat up, feeling all too warm for someone who was only ten minutes and a sip or two and in. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said, more to himself than anything, but judging by the chuckle earned in response, the man heard him anyway. 

“The girl jeans and the makeup probably don’t help, though I suppose I could say the same for myself. But anyway,” he slipped in between the barstools as the girl who’d been sitting to Ricky’s left got up and disappeared back into the droves. “ _ Ricky.  _ It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Tim. Never seen you here before. First time?”

“Is it that obvious?” A nervous laugh bubbled up from Ricky’s chest, and he stole a quick upwards glance, feeling Tim’s eyes still trained intently on him. Something about the look on his face made Ricky shift in his seat. 

Tim hummed, “Maybe a bit, but I think I’m just good at sniffing out fresh meat.”

Ricky would have audibly gulped if everything around him weren’t so loud. Normally he prided himself on  _ not  _ drawing attention, but that had gone completely out the window.  _ Fresh meat.  _ How was supposed to hear that and not die a little inside? And why was a dude  _ definitely  _ old enough to be his father y’know. Talking to him. Making him fidget and bounce his leg like he had mainlined an entire pot of coffee an hour ago. And how exactly was he supposed to form sentences with Tim staring at him like he was. Like  _ fresh meat. _

“Yeah, uh. First time here. I’m actually waiting on a friend of mine to get here. I don’t usually uh, y’know. Do stuff like this.”

“Not really into the whole club scene?” Tim asked, drumming his fingers on the bar. Ricky decided to stare at his hands instead of his face. Which wasn’t much of an improvement, if we’re being honest.

Ricky shook his head no.

“Well, it’s a lot more fun when you have somebody around to occupy your time. I might be able to help with that, if you’re open to the idea. You know, while you wait around for this friend.”

He sucked in a breath, taking a quite generous sip of his cocktail. Shivers ran through him, and if his face could turn a brighter shade of red than it already was, it almost certainly did. Ricky met Tim’s gaze again, fidgeting with the stem of his glass. He swore he probably looked like some crazy, shifty eyed weirdo. “Sure. Uh, yeah. I guess that’s okay. That’s fine.”

It was most definitely not fine.  _ He  _ was not fine. But stupid as he may be, Ricky was no fool. He wasn’t about to say  _ no.  _

Tim’s smile only widened and he leaned further into the counter. “Once you finish that off,” he gestured towards the drink in Ricky’s hand, “Why don’t you let me buy you another?”

Ricky just nodded dumbly. At least he probably wouldn’t have to deal with the stress of getting fucking swiped again. The less risk, the better. Though he wasn’t sure he would consider this a smart option either. 

He finished off his drink, allowing Tim to order him a… Whatever was put down in front of him this time. Tasted like tequila, that’s all he knew. Tim steered the conversation, general small talk, eventually veering off into anecdotes that Ricky only really caught parts of. Most of Ricky’s answers were short, stammered out, but Tim still seemed to listen to every word that came out of his mouth. God, he couldn’t think straight with this fucking dude in front of his face. It was complete and utter bullshit. 

Ricky checked his phone every few minutes, hoping for word from Chris, trying to look just about anywhere but Tim’s face. He was hot and  _ interesting  _ and he looked like he wanted to eat Ricky alive and Ricky could not, under any circumstances, deal with that right now. Every time their eyes met, the devious smirk on Tim’s face grew a little wider, and Ricky’s brain started to slowly seep out his ears a little more. There was no way he was coming out of this alive. 

Hope as he may, Ricky’s prayers were left unanswered. No texts from Chris came, one drink turned into two, he was a little tipsy and dear god if he heard Tim laugh at him tripping over his words and blushing one more time he swore he was going to explode. 

He kept touching Ricky’s arm, calling him every version of ‘sweetheart’ and ‘darling’ under the sun, and every time he did Ricky could feel a jolt run straight through his limbs to his dick and he was  _ not  _ about that life at the moment. He needed a breather. Splash some cold water on his face and tell Chris to get his  _ big, lanky ass _ over here and save him from this nightmare that was being flirted with and wanting to get absolutely decimated by Tim more by the minute.

Locating the sign for the bathrooms and quickly excusing himself, Ricky scrambled off to take cover in the safety of the men’s room. He needed a minute. Maybe several. He turned the tap on, just standing over one of the sinks and trying to whoop his brain back into working order. At least it was a little quieter in there. Although, now he really couldn’t ignore the straining in his jeans. He looked at himself in the mirror, pulling a face. 

_ What are you, a little amish boy? Dude in pleather pants shows you the least bit of attention and now you’re about to cream your pants? Jackass.  _

Ricky would have smacked himself if he could, ‘cause what the fuck. 

He ran his hands under the water, rubbing at his face before he twisted the knobs back into their resting position and grabbed a couple of paper towels. Sighing heavily, Ricky pulled his phone out of his pocket to check his messages once more. Nothing. Well, he got a text from his mom telling him she hoped he was having a good time, but that was it. And it definitely made him feel like even more of a goddamn baby than he already did. 

She thought he was at a friend’s birthday party. Fucking hell. 

Why did he agree to this again? 

Ricky shot Chris another message— reading him the riot act, threatening to break his shins a time or two, informing him that a pretty blonde goth dude was going to steal his soul if he didn’t come save him soon. Y’know, the bare essentials. There was barely enough time for the text to go through before the door behind him swung open, making him jolt back upright. He wanted to kick himself for being so jumpy, but when he saw Tim’s face in the mirror he figured he had good reason.

“Everything alright in here?” Tim’s voice echoed through the bathroom. It was the clearest Ricky had been able to hear him all night. Smooth and slow like honey. Oh jeez. 

“Uhh, yeah. ‘M fine. Great. Just needed to step away for a sec. Trying to get ahold of Chris— my friend. One who was supposed to be here like, an hour ago.” Ricky stared into the mirror as Tim sauntered over to him, the door easing shut behind him.

He gave a low hum, coming up behind Ricky and sweeping his hair over one shoulder. “Right. I just wanted to check and see, make sure you weren’t puking your guts out or anything already. You were in an awful big hurry.” 

Ricky practically squeaked, shaking his head quickly. “Nope. I’m good. Just needed a little air.” 

Tim made another noise in acknowledgement, tracing his fingertips over the back of Ricky’s neck and across his shoulders. “Would have thought you’d ease up by now, but you’re still so nervous. Do I make you nervous, Ricky?” 

It was a lot harder to hide how his breathing picked up in the quiet of the bathroom, but he couldn’t help but lean into the touch. “Maybe a little,” he said, his voice weak and wavering— much like his knees were threatening at the moment. So this was how tonight was gonna go, huh?

Tim chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You seem out of your element here, darling. Tell me something— how old are you,  _ really? _ ”

If Ricky could go any more rigid than he already was, he did, but Tim was quick to reassure. “Relax, I won’t snitch on you. Just… Curious is all.”

He turned his head, actually looking Tim in the face again, all big blue puppy dog eyes. “Nineteen. Yeah, that probably doesn’t help my case right about now, does it? I’ve been nervous since before I left. But I— God, I don’t have to tell you you’re hot. Like,  _ really. _ ”

There was that motherfucking cocky ass smirk again. Ricky was starting to wonder why he ever opened his mouth, and why he was seemingly incapable of shutting it again when faced with someone attractive. That was some serious, Grade A bullshit. 

Ricky thought Tim was gonna come back at him with some smart retort, make him blush and squirm even more than he already was, but for  _ whatever reason _ it looked like he was over all the filler ‘cause before Ricky’s brain could process what was happening Tim’s mouth was on his own. This time he did  _ actually  _ squeak. Shit.  _ Shit.  _ A hand twisted into the collar of his shirt, pulling him in, flush against Tim’s chest. His lips parted, Tim’s tongue sliding into his mouth and drawing a moan from his throat. 

Yep, there went his soul. Too late now. 

When Tim finally broke away, Ricky was panting, breathless, and somehow even more painfully turned on than he had been before. His head was swimming, too many things floating through at once, but all he could manage to spit out was  _ “Please,”  _ hoping Tim would take the hint.

Tim’s hands landed on Ricky’s hips, pressing him impossibly closer. “I think you can do a little better than that.” 

Ricky whined, instinctively bucking against Tim. This man did  _ not  _ expect him to form a coherent sentence after all that. God, this was embarrassing. He felt like an absolute fucking  _ dumbass  _ for being this nervous, this worked up, this needy. Even if he always managed to find himself in similar positions. An exposed nerve. Asking him to own up to it was like sticking it with a hot pin. 

He pulled a pout, giving Tim a pleading look. Maybe that would work. Avoid grasping at straws, trying to find the right way to say _ ‘I want you to rail me hard enough to knock the wind out of me and make me forget my own name.’ _

“I need to hear you say it. Need to know you want it.”

“Yes,  _ yes  _ I want this,” Ricky insisted. “Want it so bad. Come on,  _ please. _ ” 

Tim took a half step back, running his hand up Ricky’s chest. “Who would I be to tell you no?”

Ricky was asking himself the same question. Again,  _ what the fuck. _

The next moment, he was being spun back around and bent over the counter, nose to nose with his own reflection in the glass. No more messing around. Ricky wasn’t quite used to this treatment, hookups weren’t exactly his forte, but you weren’t about to catch him complaining. Worked up wasn’t even the right phrase for it. Half a second from spontaneously combusting sounded more accurate. 

Tim reached around his frame, sliding his belt from the buckle, and it was then that it really hit Ricky where he was and what he was doing. In a public bathroom. Open and exposed. Where anybody could mosey on in and find him bent over getting his guts rearranged. Ricky’s face burned a brilliant scarlet as Tim’s fingers dug into his skin, hooking into the waist of his jeans and pulling them down, away from his hips. He hid behind his hands, arched and leaned back, and he felt his dick jerk as denim slid over skin. Apparently tonight was awakening some sort of exhibitionism in him too, and he honestly couldn’t tell you if that was a good or bad thing. Just the  _ idea  _ of getting caught was sending Ricky further into overdrive, every nerve in his body screaming for more. 

Peeking through his fingers, Ricky watched in the mirror as Tim studied him, spreading him open, muttering something to the effect of  _ ‘pretty’ _ under his breath— Ricky couldn’t really be sure, he was already  _ way  _ too far off in orbit to catch the brunt of it. Attention like this— up close and personal and almost  _ scrutinizing  _ was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He was used to the quick and messy, laid out in the back of somebody’s dad’s truck with his head crammed somewhere between the door and the seat. Sure, he walked away semi-satisfied and a little sticky like he wanted, but this was something  _ else.  _ So much. Almost too much, but  _ god _ he didn’t think he could get enough. 

Strong hands around his wrists drew him from his thoughts, pulling his own hands away from his face. Nowhere to hide. 

Tim’s traced over his shoulder, then his jaw as he watched him, practically in awe. Two digits slid into his mouth and he closed around them without protest. Ricky whined softly, working his tongue around the fingers, locking eyes with Tim in the reflection. He’d been looking at him like a hunk of meat all night long, but now it was more like a four course meal ready to be fucking  _ devoured.  _ Prey finally caught in the snares. 

Ricky turned his head a bit, sucking and drooling on Tim’s fingers. Not even trying to make an effort to look as slutty, as desperate, as totally consumed as he did. The rumble from Tim’s voice ran through him like a shockwave, but now the words weren’t registering as much more than white noise. Those fingers needed to be inside him, and the sooner they were, the better. 

He pulled off, tongue darting out to catch the webs of spit trailing between. Laser focused back on Tim in the mirror, Ricky was talking before his brain actually had the chance to catch up. Connection between his head and his mouth had been lost, it was all just coming straight from his dick at this point. 

“Want your hands. Fuck me with your fingers.  _ Please. _ ”

Another low laugh came from behind him and Tim moved back a pace from where he was, practically pressed up against Ricky from behind. Tim nudged Ricky’s legs apart, as far as they’d go in jeans that just barely fit him. He spread him open again, leaning down, a pearl of spit falling down. 

Ricky made a high pitched sound, squirming and hiding his face again as two slick fingers rubbed against his hole, smearing spit around before carefully sinking inside of him one at a time. He swore under his breath, leaning back into Tim’s hand, trying to urge him along. Ricky felt like he was going to crumble to the fucking floor. He wanted to absolutely  _ die.  _ This is  _ not  _ what he expected to get out of sneaking into the club. Was this normal? Is this why Chris was so adamant about him coming with? ‘Cause he was cranky and needed to get laid? 

Tim had started to work his fingers in and out of Ricky, nice and slow at first, but quickly gaining momentum with Ricky making it clear that he was here for it. No matter how many miles an hour his brain was going, Ricky was a simple man. If a hot older dude had his fingers inside him, he was going to take full advantage of it. 

The digits twisted and curled as Tim pumped back out of him, hitting all the right nerves, and Ricky just about cracked his face against the mirror, crying out in ecstasy. Fuck, he could come apart just like this. He was  _ gonna  _ if Tim didn’t quit being so fucking good with his hands. But what was the fun in that? 

Just as quickly as the thought crossed his mind, it was promptly pulled away as a cruel mix of pain and pleasure pulsed through him. A third finger was worked inside him, sending ripples of pain all the way through his body in the best possible way. 

“Fuck,  _ shit. Oh god.”  _ He dug his heels into the soles of his boots, trying to find which way to shift to relieve the sick burn that twisted its way through his gut. Quickly, he realized that there was no getting out of it. 

Alright, so maybe it  _ had  _ been a hot minute. And maybe if that’s the angle that was being played, then maybe it was working.  _ Maybe. _

A hand slid back around his neck, far more gentle than before, lifting his chin and making Ricky look back up at Tim in the reflection. “Good?”

Ricky nodded his head, hardly able to keep his eyes open. Fucking hell. He was about ready to blast into the astral plane, but sure. He was okay. Totally. 

“You like that, sweetheart? Like those fingers fucking that tight little ass?”

He nodded earnestly, pressing his throat into Tim’s hand. “Yes,  _ yes, fuck.  _ So much. More.  _ Please. _ ”

Tim’s hand tightened, choking off Ricky’s breaths to nothing more than labored wheezes. He could feel himself start to tremble, all the sensations making his brain liquify. The digits buried in him curled down, and Tim fucked into him harder, faster. Fingertips brushed against his sweet spot over and over again. Ricky curled his own hands into his hair, pulling hard, just trying to keep himself in this reality.  _ Holy fuck.  _

“That what you want, or are you looking for a little something else?” Tim asked, still watching Ricky’s pathetic expressions in the mirror. “You want me to fuck you?” 

“ _ Please, _ ” he gasped, ‘cause evidently that’s all the goo inside his head was capable of spitting out in the moment. They were far past sentences at this point.

As quickly as it had started, Tim was gone again, sliding his fingers out of Ricky and releasing his grip around his throat. The rush of air to Ricky’s brain was almost enough to push him over the edge, but thank fucking  _ god  _ he had a little more self control than that. Last fucking thing he needed right now was to come too fast in front of Tim. 

Like he didn’t want to disappear into thin air enough already with all this nonsense. 

Ricky lifted his gaze, giving his attention to Tim as he made quick work of wrestling his pants down and pulling his length out. He had no fucking idea how Tim managed to get pleather to bend to his will so quickly. God knows that wasn’t an easy task. 

Practice, probably. 

Fuck. 

He had gotten Ricky to do much that same, after all. Bastard. 

He didn’t see much more than pale expanses of thigh and lower stomach from his viewpoint, but he didn’t need to see, so much as  _ feel  _ that Tim was big. Like,  _ big.  _ Definitely bigger than he was used to. 

Ricky whimpered as Tim slicked himself up with more saliva and pressed the head of his cock against his entrance. Inch by inch, he eased himself inside him. God, it felt like it would never fucking  _ end.  _ It didn’t hurt so much anymore, Tim had already ensured  _ that  _ wouldn’t be an issue, but it was still like being fucking  _ impaled. _

_ Sure gonna feel this one in the morning.  _

Once Tim had hilted himself, he gave Ricky no more than a moment to let go of the breath he’d been holding before pulling almost all the way out and slamming back into him all at once. Ricky damn near ripped out a chunk of hair, trying to stop himself from straight up  _ screaming.  _

_ Oh yeah, definitely gonna feel that.  _

Tim braced himself, one hand on the counter, the other tight on Ricky’s hip as he fucked him, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the bathroom. Ricky kept his head dropped low, buried in his hands, tears already starting to prick at the corners of his eyes. Making this last was out of the question now, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Tim might have been in a similar spot. Also, y’know, the whole door that didn’t exactly lock thing. 

Guess he could cross this one off the bucket list. Leave it at that. And under  _ no  _ circumstances acknowledge the backflips his stomach did at the thought of some poor sap walking in on him like this. Full and fucked up and helpless and used. 

Ricky dropped his shoulders, putting his weight into the counter and pushing back into Tim as he reached down and wrapped his hand around his leaking cock. He worked himself in quick, careless strokes, and Tim keened from behind him. 

“Yeah, shit. That’s it. Look at you. Wanna come on this dick, don’t you? Come undone just for me.”

He let go of a sob, hips twitching involuntarily as he tried to meet every thrust. “Fucking  _ christ.  _ Yes, I do. So much. So fucking bad. Make me come. Fill me up.”

Tim’s hand settled in on his other hip, pulling him in, pounding into him impossibly harder. Ricky wasn’t even  _ trying  _ to suppress the pathetic noises falling from his lips now. He was starting to think he actually was right. There was no way he was about to walk out of here alive. 

Just as Tim stilled, pulsing inside him, he found just the right place to make Ricky fall to pieces. His legs gave out, now shaking and shivering even harder than before, tears falling down his cheeks as his orgasm washed over him and made the whole world go black for a second. 

So maybe the club wasn’t all bad. 

After milking them both for all they were worth, Tim was left to pull out with a hiss and slide his hand up Ricky’s back, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Hey,” he said. “You okay?”

Ricky took a deep, wavering breath and looked up, brushing the tears away from his cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Great. Never better.” He laughed nervously. “It’s a thing. It happens a lot. I’m good. Just need a second to pull myself up off the floor.”

A thoughtful look flashed across Tim’s face for a moment before he simply nodded and took a step back to tuck himself back in and straighten up. That, of course, had Ricky come crashing back to reality as he scrambled back up on wobbly limbs to grab some more of the cheap, scratchy paper towels and do the same. 

He just got dicked the fuck down in a goth club bathroom. That’s totally fine. 

“Well,” Tim’s voice pulled him away from his thoughts. “Hope I made your wait a little less miserable, darling. Just come find me if you ever feel like doing it again.” 

Ricky lifted his gaze to find the same familiar cheshire chin on Tim’s face. Goddamn it. 

“I do hope I get to see you around here again. Oh, and good luck on finding your friend.”

With that, Tim zipped himself up and turned on his heel, swinging the bathroom door open and disappearing back out into the dark.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Ricky was just thanking whatever entity was out there that he was just drunk enough to question. Whatever the fuck it was that just happened.

Now, if Chris would just—

Not two seconds after the door has closed itself behind Tim, it was swept back open by a more familiar and  _ welcome  _ bastard in pleather pants.  _ There he fucking was. _

Chris took a good look at Ricky, narrowing his eyes. It would be an understatement to say he looked  _ wrecked _ . Makeup smeared halfway down his face, tear stains still streaking his cheeks, dopey, far off, fucked out look on his face. 

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“I fucking  _ told you—”  _ Ricky started, making some wild hand gesture while still having to hold himself up on the edge of the counter. 

Chris stopped Ricky short, as if all his brain cells seemed to return to him all at once. Oh. Oh shit. Ricky wasn’t lying in all those manic texts he pummeled Chris with while he was sitting in traffic, was he? 

“Wait.  _ Wait.”  _ His mouth fell agape. “Oh my god, Rick,  _ no.” _

Ricky just nodded, unable to find it in him to get all snarky and bitchy after  _ that. _

Chris quickly turned to look at the door, then back at Ricky. “Was— I bumped into—?” 

“Yeah. That’s him.”

“Oh, I fucking  _ hate you.” _

**Author's Note:**

> ratcoven.tumblr.com


End file.
